


All I've Ever Known

by richietozlr



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Canon Rewrite, Coming of Age, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, One Sided Dev/Agatha, One Sided Fiona Pitch/Lucy Salisbury, Slow Burn, Swordfighting, This isn't meant to be a snowbaz fic its just an entire AU that also features the canon pairing(s)., the hp/co au nobody asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21787336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/richietozlr/pseuds/richietozlr
Summary: Simon Snow finds himself pulled into childlike fantasies and myths: a world of wizardry and witchcraft. Sure, it's not the oddest thing that could happen when you're an orphan living with distant, distant family, but it's odd enough.Another story in which Simon is the Chosen One to save us all. A combination of the Harry Potter series and Carry On. The main, driving plot and the universe are Harry Potter-centric, but this is about the Carry On kids and is not affiliated with the real, existing HP universe.
Relationships: Keris/Trixie (Simon Snow), Penelope Bunce/Shepard, Simon Snow/Agatha Wellbelove, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Kudos: 22





	1. Prologue - 2002

She remembers that gruesome Wednesday like no other. Every wizard and witch does. Ebb had stood in the wreckage of a family, blood puddling underneath the body of golden hair and soft edges. She remembers how Godric's Hollow had felt as if it too were dying. The sky was overcast, tendrils of darkness reaching towards the earth like inky tentacles. Ash and soot were floating through the air strung with dark magic. Ebb could still feel the pure evil. The void, the pain, the anger, the death. The world around her weeped with the loss of life. The remaining structures of the Salisbury house moaned in grief, threatening to cave in. 

_‘The house of Salisbury has fallen’._

Everybody with a shred of magic in their blood had heard the voice. It was as if somebody whispered right into the shell of one’s ear; there was no choice but to listen. It was a thought that invaded and trumped all others, a hysterical whisper that drove some mad. The Humdrum’s voice.

Ebeneza did not stir as the disastrous voice hissed into her head. She had kept her eyes dry and head held high, because that is what Natasha would’ve done. She stepped over what remains of the threshold of the Salisbury house. Once, it had stood three-stories tall with cream-coloured walls and chocolate brown trimming. There had been sunflowers growing in the garden year-long despite the seasons. But now Ebb could only see one smashed under the shrapnel. She almost reached out for it, but she had to keep going. She had to see the damage.

Lucy Salisbury didn’t look dead. Her tawny skin and sun-kissed golden hair was not yet covered with a sheen of death. She looked radiant and gorgeous like a princess. Lucy was a Pureblood in all senses except by blood, but not even the Old Families could frown at her for her muggle father; Natasha had held her in high regard. Ebb _always_ knew Lucy was special. She was supposed to be a revolutionary. She was going to change the world.

And now she lay dead. Her body was cold as the remainder of the Killing Curse dissipates into the rubble around her like radiation. A rafter had crushed her right leg. If it weren’t for the fact it was too late Ebb might have tried to Banish the rafter away. But it had been too late and she had watched as the Humdrum swung the Unforgivable at Lucy. Ebb had seen the green flash, heard the blood-curdling screams, then the silence. With the sound of the air around them being sucked away, he had disappeared into the night with blood on his hands; magical blood. 

Ebb’s gaze had been drawn to the bundle that lay next to Lucy. This time, tears did threaten to spill. She stepped around her old friend, falling to her knees before the pile of blankets. With shaking hands and the sharp pain of nauseating fear, Ebb drew the cloth back.

Thick, warm tears slid down her cheeks as the round face of Lucy’s child stared at her. He was alive. Against all the odds, this two-year old had survived against the Dark Lord. Ebb pulled the boy into her arms and let out a weepy sob. He bubbled and Ebb wiped her face on her robe. This was The Chosen One, Ebb realized. The one who will save us all. She had let her fingertips graze the wispy curls of bronze on top of his head. His magic responded to her touch and she could feel the warm buzz. Ebb quickly stood up and tucked him against her chest. She had spun around, staff ready as a crackling noise came from behind her.

"Is that the kid?" 

Ebb lowered her staff and stepped out of the decrepit house. "He survived." She whispered. Her voice was watery. "Lucy kept him alive… I don't know how."

Dark eyes were cast over Ebb's shoulder at Lucy's body. They hardened. Ebb looked away to give the woman space. 

"And the other three?"

Ebeneza shook her head. "I'm sorry." The woman crouched next to Lucy. She had one hand holding Lucy's and another caressing her cheek. Ebb held little Salisbury close to her chest.

"I couldn't keep her safe." 

"Come here." Ebb gently said. Her friend turned to look at her, reluctant to leave Lucy's side. But she stood. Ebb held out the boy to her. She took him, staring down at the surviving Salisbury family member. He pulled her black ponytail and smiled.

"He has her eyes." She whispered

Ebb nodded sadly. She started to tear up again. "A part of her lives on inside of him. We need to protect him. You need to keep him safe." 

"What's his name?"

"Simon."

"Simon Salisbury…" The woman repeated. She stared into the little boy's eyes. Ebb didn't doubt she was thinking of Lucy. "The one who'll save us all, huh?"

"Fiona," Ebb had taken Simon back from her. She pulled her robe tightly around him, sheltering him from the hazardous air and lingering dark magic. "Will you watch him? At Hogwarts? When it's time for him to come? I need you to promise me."

Fiona's expression had been unreadable. Ebb saw her turn back to Lucy.

"Yes. For Lucy."

Ebb suddenly understood in that moment. She knew her friend well, having spent the whole of their Hogwarts career together as students and now as adults, but she had never known what went on behind Fiona's charcoal eyes and sharp features. She had seen Fiona at her highest and her lowest. She had noticed the fleeting glances Fiona would send across the courtyard. Ebb had thought it was revulsion for Davey; he was a loud-mouth and Fiona always disapproved of his lack of nobility despite being a pureblood. The quiet moments of contemplation, the staring, the _longing._ Ebb understood now what all of those gestures had meant.

Simon stirred in her arm and she pulled him gently against her bosom. "After all this time?"

Fiona pulled her wand out from under her robes. With a flick the debris that had been surrounding Lucy vanished. The walls that had threatened to close in were reinforced. Ebb took a step back as Fiona's energy flowed through the air. Collateral flew away, bricks and slabs of concrete re-stacked to create walls, photos that had been shattered were now in pristine condition. Ebb didn't say anything when Fiona pocketed one of the photos. She didn't say anything when Fiona lifted Lucy onto the newly Transfigured couch. She didn't say anything when Fiona tucked a ringlet of hair behind Lucy's ear in an unnatural display of softness. 

Fiona pointed her wand at the curls and Ebb watched as a sunflower blossomed into existence. It was nestled lovingly into Lucy's hair. Fiona caressed Lucy's face a final time before she turned to Ebeneza. 

"Always." Fiona whispered.

*

Susan Snow and Robert Snow live an entirely normal life. They had gone through university, met in class, fallen in love, married after graduation, and had three lovely children. The family bloodline was secure in the hands of the two beautiful baby girls and a boy, and the Snows couldn't have been happier.

They remember that fateful Wednesday entirely differently than Ebeneza and Fiona, for neither had a drop of magic that flowed through their veins. Not either of their parents had been magical, and none of their children bore the gift either. If the weather outside was more frightful than normal on that particular night they simply chalked it up to unknown environmental factors. The Snows had a cozy home, respectable life, and as far as they were concerned they had secured a perfect future. They were entirely, brilliantly, normal.

Susan remembered that Wednesday night in this precise order of events: First, she enjoyed a well-rounded supper with her husband and two of her darling children (their oldest, Helen, had recently moved out). Dear Claire had mentioned the disturbing weather but the adults dismissed her concerns as any adult would of their child. Following supper, Robert had retreated to the living room. Claire had bid goodnight and climbed the stairs, little James at her heel. Susan thought to herself that she was absolutely blessed whilst she was pulling off the gloves she wore to wash the dishes -- which sat drying beside her. She folded them neatly in her hands and watched the empty street outside in a blissful peace. Not a soul had been outside, especially not since it had been storming only minutes ago. Privet Drive bore no sign of life nor movement other than the water dredging into the storm drains. This false sense of security is what had made the events that followed seem all the more unreal yet burdensome.

There was a sharp rap at the front door. Susan had set her gloves aside, shucked off her apron, thought it curious, but still headed towards the door. Had she known who was on the other side she may have never opened it. For when she did, there on the ground were two items: a letter, and a spacious basket. With a cocked brow, Susan looked up and down Privet Drive. Surely she had _just_ missed the deliverer; but the street remained empty. All she saw was a raven perched on the fencing, shaking itself off of dew drops. 

She plucked the note card up first, hoping it would explain this odd parcel delivered in the middle of the night.

_Dear Residents of 4 Privet Drive, Watford_

_We regret to inform you that your niece Lucy Salisbury and her husband David Salisbury died only a few hours ago. Being the only local and willing relatives, we have left you with her only child. The boy's name is Simon. We do hope you treat him kindly and protect him, nurturing and raising him as one of your own, as his situation is highly unfortunate. One day he will do amazing things, and we all expect his presence to change the world._

_Sincerely,_

_Ebeneza Petty_

_Headmistress of Hogwarts_

Susan's face paled. She quickly picked up the heavy basket, rushed inside red-faced, and slammed the door behind her. She hurried to her husband and threw the letter in his lap.

"Who was at the door? What's this, then?" 

"Something happened to Lucy." She said, placing Simon's basket delicately on top the coffee table. Robert unfurled the note. His only response had been a sharp intake of breath, but Susan was only concerned with the unexpected gift they had been left. With quivering fingers she reached into the basket, pulling aside the cloth that resided inside. For a moment, feeling nothing within it, Susan hoped it had been a prank. A terrible prank, nonetheless, but a silly well-intended joke.

When she removed the blanket to see the Salisbury heir, her blood ran cold. No DNA tests would have to be run: this was the child of Lucy Salisbury. Susan had been there when Lucy was born, had attended every birthday party, and gifted her beautiful china glasses at her wedding. She was very well-acquainted with the Salisbury hair, the same splattering of freckles, and the button-like nose. Looking at Simon reminded her too much of Lucy. Too, too much. The bile in the back of her throat made swallowing uncomfortable.

"Hell, 'e looks just like her, don' he?" Robert peered at Simon, lips set in a deep crease.

"Yes. He does." She fell back and landed on the couch next to her husband. She covered her face. Of course she had been upset to hear the dreadful news about Lucy, but what about _them?_ They were to raise this orphan two year old child suddenly out of nowhere? This hadn't been part of the plan she had so carefully lived by. And the Snows never did anything if it hadn't been according to plan, especially not Susan.

Her hand covered her mouth as she peered at the sleeping boy. Right, well, for Lucy… She supposed they would manage. He could share a room, perhaps, with one of her kids. She wasn't fond of the idea of waking up in the wee morning hours to a crying child -- not after James -- but the situation had been entirely unavoidable. "We'll put him up with Claire." Susan said decidedly. Robert nodded. "It'll be alright. This won't change anything, will it?" She hoped the hysteria in her voice was just her own imagination.

Considering the look on her husband's face, she could see it was not.


	2. Year 1 - 2012 - ODYSSEY

Simon Snow is sitting on a train for the first time in his life. The seats are comfortably padded, the windows don't shudder with every bump and sway, it's well lit, and it doesn't smell as awful as the Underground. Needless to say, he'd deem his first experience rather enjoyable. Even if he hadn't the slightest what the next year would bring, he's trying to be optimistic.

A list of things Simon still didn't quite understand:

**1\. Simon is a wizard.**

Or a witch? Mage? He's not entirely sure about all this new terminology. 

He'd been minding his own business when there had been a loud rapping on the front door. Startled, Simon had crept to the entryway. It couldn't be his great aunt nor his cousins as they were all out and about for the rest of the day. Aunt Susan had given him a quick hug, let him know everybody would be home much later, and left him to his own devices. He really shouldn't answer the door, but he found himself twisting the knob and prying the front door back. On the porch stood a man with a worn brown coat, muddied boots, and greasy hair. Simon was raised on the mindset of not judging people, but, the man looked like he was a convict. He regretted his decision to open the door instantly. Instead of retreating, however, Simon set his jaw and jut his head up.

"Ahh, Simon." The strange man beat him to it. Simon shifted uncomfortably.

"Do I know you?"

"Awh, family friend. Went to school with your mum. You're so big! What are they feeding you meatbags nowadays?" The man laughed at the crude attempt at a joke. 

Curiosity overtook Simon; "My mom? I'm sorry, she's… Dead. Has been for ten years."

"Yes, yes, it was such a tragedy. But, kid, I'm here on official Hogwarts business."

"Huh?" 

"Hogwarts. Can I come in?" 

_No_ , Simon's brain immediately replied. But it was cold outside, and he did feel bad for the man. Simon stepped aside, allowing the bizarre bloke entry. "Er, who are you?"

"You can call me Nico, kid. I'm here to personally invite ya' to Hogwarts. I thought it was overkill, but the headmistress insisted. Dragged my carcass out of bed, threw on my Sunday best, an' here we are." Simon kind of doubted that was Nico's 'Sunday best', but who is he to judge when his closet was almost all handy-downs. 

Nico had thrown himself onto the sofa with an obnoxious groan of satisfaction. Simon cautiously approached him and took a seat across from Nico -- the armchair closest to the door. Just in case, Simon thought.

Nico shifted, digging around in his dingy coat for something. With a grunt of satisfaction he pulled out a parchment with coffee-stains and grease. He unfurled it and waved it in Simon's direction. 

It read:

> _Dear Mr. Snow,_
> 
> _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._
> 
> _Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._
> 
> _Yours sincerely,_
> 
> _Pyxis Posibelf_
> 
> _Deputy Headmistress_

**2\. Simon is going to Hogwarts.**

"What does this mean?" There had been a second page attached with a list of supplies. Seeing the uniform list, Simon frowned. He had been used to schools requiring a uniform, but this was ridiculous. A _robe?_ Were all wizard-y stereotypes true? He imagined himself frolicking around with a pointy stick and tall, pointy purple hat. Like Mickey Mouse in _Fantasia_ , his brain helpfully supplied.

"Merlin, ya' know how to read, right? Muggles can read, right?" 

"Uh. Um… I can read, but I don't understand."

"Kid, listen. Whoever popped you out had magic in their veins, and now that's gone on to you. You're a wizard, got it?" Nico scraped a bit of mud off his boot. Simon watched it land on Susan's favorite rug. His head started to hurt.

"Uh."

"Great. Next, Hogwarts is the best school for learnin' to control your magic. You don't gotta attend, but considering you've got a _helluva_ lotta magic, I suggest ya' do. Headmistress was real hell-bent on having me fetch ya' myself." 

He had been pretty sure there wasn't anything magical about him in the slightest, but Simon nodded along to Nico's, and he's saying this with incredible leniency, explanation. 

"So yer gonna go. Guess I gotta explain to your great aunt an' uncle the whole ordeal. Or maybe I could jus' whisk you away and hope Ebb cleans up the rest." Nico rubbed his hand against his stubbled chin. His fingernails had dirt under them, Simon noticed.

"Wait, it says the year starts on the 1st of September. That's a week from now. I have to go _right now?"_ Simon spluttered out, gripping the papers tighter.

"Nah, nah. We got to do some shopping, though."

"I don't have money."

"Don' worry about that. Let's say you got an investor." 

Simon's headache worsened.

**3\. Simon has an inheritance.**

The Snow family wasn't exactly _poor_ , but they weren't made of money. Simon's clothing were almost all second hand or handed down shirts that his cousin James had grown out of. He had the same pair of trainers for the last two years, which wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for the fact the soles peeled back every step he took. Or the weird smell that, no matter what, Simon could never wash away. 

But Nico had taken Simon down to a magical bank and retrieved a sack of odd coins. Nico did his best to convert them from 'Muggle money' to wizarding currency, but Simon didn't understand. He'd spent their entire journey in Diagon Alley and Gringotts Bank confused. He wasn't sure if it was all a dream or not. But somehow Aunt Susan and Uncle Robert consented to Simon attending this wizard school, acting as if it were an everyday occurrence. The school year had been scheduled for the next day, so the shops were full of flurries of activity. Everybody dressed in odd outfits that made Simon less embarrassed about his clothing choices. Bright reds, blues, secondary colours -- a woman bustled by with an entire bird on her ridiculously large hat. He had jumped when the bird twisted its head to look at him. Nico hadn't been worried, so Simon followed along dumbly. 

Whatever Nico handed him he held onto, not sure why he needed a bloody _feather_ instead of a good ball-point pen. It'd certainly be cheaper and more convenient. For being powerful magic users leagues above science, Simon thought it was ironic they hadn't perfected the pen yet. He would remind himself to grab a pen before he left for school. 

Nico pushed Simon out of the bookshop they had just been in and almost ran him into the door of the adjacent storefront. Simon squinted at the sign above. It read: Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. 

Assuming Nico had intentionally shoved him into the door, Simon opened up the door. Nico hobbled in, not sparing a glance or word of gratitude. Inside, Simon watched as tape measures, pins, and fabric flew through the air as if they were alive. A particularly excited pair of shears came snipping by, narrowly avoiding Nico's ear. Nico slapped his hand on the countertop rudely, leaning over to speak to the woman standing behind it. Briefly, Simon wondered if Nico's hand would leave a residue of grime and grease. He was too amused by the thought and hadn't realized the store clerk approached him. 

"Hello, Mr. Snow. Here to get robes fit, are we?" Simon startled out of his daydream.

"Er… I suppose." Nico grabbed Simon's books and supplies out of his arms, wrinkling his nose.

"Get 'im what he needs. Fast too. Gotta be back for dinner." 

The woman gently pushed and pulled Simon to a set of mirrors. He never liked his reflection, so he looked aside. The woman -- Madam Malkin? -- surveyed him, taking measurements and murmuring to herself the whole time. Unsure what to do with himself he had taken to watching the tailoring instruments whiz through the air. A completed robe floated down across the room, into the arms of a young boy, probably around his age. Simon couldn't remember the last time he had _spoken_ to somebody his age. 

The boy was accompanied by a tall man with entirely white hair, neatly slicked back without a strand out of place. He wore fine clothing, better than anything Simon had seen of the other wizard folk. His son bore a likeness yet at the same time a striking difference. While the man's hair was cropped short, the boy's hair was more free -- loose. It fell to his chin. Simon swallowed thickly. The kid wasn't wearing loose jeans and an old tee shirt like him, but elegant clothes the same striking steel as his eyes. Even his bloody _shoes_ matched. It made his stomach churn uncomfortably, but he pressed on. When the boy caught him staring, he looked back. Simon vaguely thought he reminded him of a raven.

The boy had eyed him over, most likely in a similar fashion that Simon had just done. He felt his palms get sweaty as the fight-or-flight instinct started to dangerously float into the front of his mind. Their gazes met and all the kid had to offer was a smirk. One of those 'I'm better than you and I know it' kinds of smirks. Hell, he probably was, but Simon had half the mind to punch the guy in the middle of a clothing store. 

He had been contemplating the best place to punch -- solar plexus? -- when Madam Malkin cleared her throat. Simon whipped his head back to look at her feeling suddenly very sheepish.

"All done, Mr. Snow." She produced a few sets of robes and held them out to him. He took them gently, holding the robes as if she had just given him a delicate item. They were the first items of clothing he ever had that were both new and tailored to him exactly. He's so giddy when he rejoins Nico he can't help but bite down a smile. Nico ruffled Simon's curls. Simon couldn't bring himself to mind.

**4\. Simon is a wizard with an inheritance on a train to Hogwarts.**

That's where he currently is. On a train. Alone. He's never gone anywhere alone yet considering everything that's happened in the past couple weeks this is pretty low on his list; it's the least surprising, he guesses. Simon had adapted the ability to go with the flow very, very young, and he wasn't going to let this new and exciting world overwhelm him. Or, at least, no more than it already has. 

The compartment door slams open so hard Simon swears he hears the wood splinter, glass crack. When he looks up at the perpetrator he relaxes. It's a short girl with a rounded face, glasses that are too big for her face, aggressively frizzy hair, and the brightest purple jumper that Simon's ever seen. He blinks at her dramatic entrance, but she's all crooked smiles and a head held high.

"Hi! I'm Penelope Bunce. We're going to be best friends." Penelope closes the door behind her with much more grace than she entered and sets a scrappy, yellow cat onto the bench adjacent from Simon. She sits next to the cat and throws her feet up onto Simon's side. "What's your name?"

"Uh… Simon." 

"Nice to meet you, Simon No-Last-Name."

He smiles. "Snow. It's Simon Snow. Nice to meet you."

Penelope matches Simon's smile. "I've never heard your name before. You aren't a pureblood, are you? Are your parents Normal?"

"I don't know what any of that means." He admits.

She rubs her hands together excitedly. "Lucky for you, Mr. Simon Snow, I know pretty much everything!"

Simon tries to hide his relief. He was getting worried that he'd have to wander around pretending to know what the hell people were talking about. He's not the brightest light bulb but he's not a total dud.

"Okay. Erm… What's a 'Muggle'? Nico kept saying it. I haven't the slightest what it means."

Penelope's eyes roll, "Well, first off, we don't really use that term anymore! The more recent, correct term is Normal. It's considered less offensive. Of course _Nicodemus_ says Muggle. Essentially, they're the people without magic. Normals aren't allowed to know about magic. It's to keep them safe and our societies separate." 

"Normal. Okay."

"Oh, and! Pure-bloods are basically considered royalty here. I think it's absolute rubbish and the most pretentious thing ever. When your whole family line has magic and none marry a Normal, you're a pure-blood. _I'm_ a pure-blood, but we don't have the conservative ideologies of 'dirtying' the magical blood. There are some posh families -- we call them the Old Families -- that are a mess of inbreeding and they think they're all high-and-mighty. The Wellbeloves used to be an Old Family, but Ms. Wellbelove married a complete Normal."

"Okay." Simon still has a lot of questions but Penelope seems like she's more comfortable prattling on and on. He doesn't mind; this is the longest conversation he's ever had. 

"You're probably born to Normals, then?"

Simon shrugs. "I think my mom was one of you. Nico said they went to school with each other. My great-Aunt and Uncle are Normals. Same with my cousins. It's just me."

Penny taps her lips, absorbing all the information. "Not that it matters. The whole magical blood thing is such nonsense. Half-bloods have _loads_ of magic -- I've seen a half-blood duel a pure-blood and win!" Simon nods along as if he understands. He doesn't. 

Penelope darts out of her seat suddenly and throws the compartment door open again. "Agatha!" She calls loudly down the corridor. She waves in a way that makes her impossible to ignore. In a few moments a tall girl steps into view. Penelope tugs her inside. The new girl stumbles onto the bench across from Simon. Penelope's cat jumps onto Simon's lap to avoid getting crushed. 

Agatha is one of the prettiest girls Simon's ever seen. Her hair is long, blonde, curled at the ends. Her skin colour is pale, but it doesn't look unhealthy. She doesn't seem like a frail princess. Rather, Simon figures she could probably lift _him_ up. He focuses on petting Penelope's cat. It doesn't purr but it does close its eyes and settle down.

Penelope squeezes herself next to Agatha. "Simon, this is Aggy!" 

"Agatha. Wellbelove." She corrects. But Agatha smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear. "It's nice to meet you, Simon." 

“We were just talking about you! Simon lives with Normals. He doesn’t know anything, it’s almost cute.” Agatha politely smiles as Penelope talks enough for the three of them. 

“I’m sure this is kind of a culture shock then?” Agatha asks.

“A bit.” Simon confesses. He hopes he isn’t blushing. He’s counting the cat’s stripes. “I have no idea what’s happening. I’ve only ever been to regular schools.”

“I heard they teach maths and basic English. Is that true? That’s so silly, why would you need to be taught your own language?” 

“Do you know anything about Normals?” 

Penelope shrugs. “A bit. Not very much. My parents tried to raise us experiencing both Normal and magical cultures, but considering they’re pure-bloods they didn’t have a clue what most things meant. They don’t have phones. Only my older brother and I do. Do you have a mobile? Agatha does. She doesn’t use it.” 

Judging on Agatha’s reaction, Simon reckons it’s more likely that Penelope is the only person that Agatha doesn’t reply to. He almost laughs because Agatha is being polite despite clearly not caring for Penelope beyond an acquaintance, yet Penelope is blatantly oblivious. Or she’s ignoring it, stubborn. In the short minutes he's known Penny, Simon thinks either are viable answers. 

“No, we only have a house phone.” Simon omits the part about being unable to afford even a pager, forgetting about the large sum of galleons and sickles deep within Gringotts bank. Uninterested in Simon’s lackluster response she turns to Agatha.

“Which house do you think you’ll be in?” 

Agatha purses her lips. “Mum was a Hufflepuff. Her parents were Gryffindor and Slytherin. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Well _I’m_ going to be a Gryffindor. Just like Premal and dad. Premal is aiming for Head Boy next year! There’s no way he won’t get it. He’s already a Prefect and on the Quidditch team. We’re all very proud of him. He wants to be in the Ministry, you know.” 

Remembering that Simon is sitting there very unaware of the terms being thrown around Agatha tries to elaborate. “There are four houses at Hogwarts. Think of them as teams. There’s Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. There’s a ritual where they sort you based on your morals and ideals.”

“People use them as reasons for segregation. Personally, I don’t condone house sorting, but because it’s such a time honoured tradition, I don’t blame them for not removing it. It’s so isolating! Everybody thinks that they can only be friends with their housemates, or that Gryffindors are inherently the good guys while Slytherins are the bad guys. It’s all divisive, if you ask me.” Penelope huffs, crossing her arms, as if she wasn’t the one who brought up houses to begin with. Agatha and him share a knowing smile but don’t say anything.

“Why do they think Slytherins are evil, then?”

“Well…” Agatha answers this time. Penelope and her suddenly seem uncomfortable. It fuels Simon’s curiosity. “Probably, because… Slytherin produced the most Death Eaters, Salazar Slytherin condoned the debate of magical vs Normal blood superiority, and… He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named was a Slytherin.” 

“Who?” 

Penelope wrinkles her nose when Agatha says; “I don’t know if we should drop this on him.” They both seem reluctant to elaborate. Simon persists.

“What is it? Who is the guy? And what’s a Death Eater?” He sets his jaw defiantly. 

Penelope caves with an elongated sigh. She tucks her small hands underneath the arms of her purple jumper and closes her eyes. “Up until a few years ago, there was an incredibly dark, evil wizard. Nobody says his name, but I'm sure you'll find out soon enough. He suddenly disappeared in 2002. Nobody knows what happened. The morons that followed him like blind cattle were called Death Eaters. They thought they deserved a fun, edgy name, I suppose," she sighs again. "Quite a few members of the Old Families had been Death Eaters. You-Know-Who thought that Normals were below wizards, and if you're not a pure-blood then you're a traitor. That's what they call my family: blood traitors." Penelope opens her eyes to look at Simon. He slowly nods, processing everything that she's saying. It's a lot to take in but he's doing his best. Penelope seems to really know everything. She seems like a powerful ally that Simon's relieved to have. 

"Bit of a serious topic for a delightful train ride, isn't it?" Agatha murmurs. Her hazel eyes stare out the window. The landscape is whizzing by in hues of fine greens, undiluted by the sky's cheery cerulean. 

There's a loud clattering noise in the corridor. Annoyed, Penelope pulls the door open to peek at the commotion. With the door askew Simon can see a couple of young wizards being rancorous and carefree. There are sparks coming off the pair but they seem harmless. The laughter doesn't seem menacing yet Penelope dawns a scowl. Simon leans over to get a closer look, a difficult task considering Penny takes up most of the limited door space. 

"Quit faffing about, you two!" She snaps. The boys don't quit it and instead approach Penelope with an air of innocence. The taller of the two has slicked black hair, but some gelled strands stick out here and there. It reminds Simon of the kids who had their parents do their hair for picture day at school. The smaller one has shaggy brown hair and a crooked smile. Aside from the magical sparks and cloaks they look like a couple of normal schoolboys. Normal-Normal schoolboys.

"Just having some fun, Bunce! You can't pretend like you're not excited."

"I'm not pretending anything." Penelope folds her arms, defensive.

"Who's in there with you?" The black haired boy is tall enough to peer into their cabin. Agatha wiggles her fingers in greeting. Simon stares back. "You're new!" He croaks, on his tippy-toes to try and get around Penny. "Name's Dev. This is Niall. Hey." 

"His name is Simon and _don't you have better things to do?"_

"I suppose." Dev looks at Niall, who lifts his shoulders. When they stop trying to force their way into the compartment Penelope relaxes and lets them converse freely. 

"Where's your cousin?"

"Who?" Dev's gaze flickers between the three of them as if it's too much to take in. "Marcus? Front carriages." 

"No, Basil. Shouldn't you go annoy him? You lot are practically his little minions." Dev scowls, and with his features tightened Simon realizes he has a resemblance to the boy in the robes shop. Perhaps that's Marcus? Or Basil? Not that it was important. It's only that Simon likes being able to put names to faces; it's the very least he could do. 

"We're not his minions."

"But aren't we?" Dev looks down at Niall with a look of exaggerated betrayal. Niall stares back through his messy fringe of hair entirely unperturbed. 

"Yeah, but don't say that in front of them." The tips of Dev's ears have gone rosey. Simon suspects, judging by the repeatedly prolonged glances he was giving Agatha, Dev only cares about her opinion. Agatha is acting as if she hasn't seen anything and returns to watching the landscape outside. Dev's shoulders deflate a smidge. Simon hides a smile by ducking his head towards Penelope's cat, who remains stationary in his lap. 

Penelope shakes her head, frizzy brown hair bobbing side to side. "Honestly. He's here, right? I heard Mr. Pitch was thinking of sending him to Durmstrang. Could you imagine? _Durmstrang?_ Basil is so thin I wouldn't be surprised if he froze to death." 

Dev nods. "No, he's here. Not sure which compartment. It'd be a disgrace to the family name to send him anywhere but Hogwarts." There's a respectful, mourning pause. Penelope nods solemnly with him. 

"Headmistress Petty does her best, but Natasha was an absolute wonder." Penny crosses her arms. "The best witch out there."

Dev's small smile is sad. "No kidding. Talk about the coolest relative ever." 

Simon nudges Agatha out of her daydreams. "Who are they talking about?" 

Agatha looks up. "Ah. The Grimms and the Pitches. They're Old Families. The Headmistress of Hogwarts before was Natasha Grimm-Pitch. She was incredible. Fell in battle is what my mum says, but it's never been disclosed. One day she was alive, then the next…" She trails off. _Dead,_ Simon's brain supplies. The previous Headmistress had mysteriously died and left behind two powerful families. 

"What happened to her family?" Having never had a proper family Simon finds himself invested.

"Headmistress only had one boy. Basilton. He's Dev's cousin. Mr. Pitch remarried to another pure-blood, popped out some kids, and that's all there is to it. I suppose the school was her family. That was the biggest repercussion. The Old Families were enraged with her death, calling foul play. But there isn't a wizard or witch alive who could take down Natasha Grimm-Pitch. Petty became headmistress in her steed, changes were made, and the Families were placated. They don't hate Petty, but my mum says her retirement would only benefit the Old Families." 

"Was Natasha a Slytherin?"

Agatha smiles at the question. "Ravenclaw." 

Penelope sits back onto the bench, huffing and puffing about the boys' reckless and inappropriate use of magic. Simon reckons that if he had been raised in the magical world like the rest of them, he would probably play with it as well. Even though the magic had been only sparks -- they looked like firework sparklers -- Simon was enraptured. He hasn't seen anybody his age use magic. Sure, in the robe shop the tools had all been flying around, and sure when he received his wand the old fellow had made it float, and yes that woman did have a rather large bird on her hat, but none of it seemed quite real to Simon. The flashy, showy displays of magic hadn't impressed him. In fact, it almost seemed like a waste. Or that they were trying too hard. He's seen plenty of Normal tailors have a perfectly good business and they definitely didn't have clouds of fabric and pins towering over them.

Yet seeing these boys goofing around with the tiniest purple and red flashes was what solidified it in his mind: that this magical world _was_ real and he belonged in it. Their magic felt real and natural. Raw. It was nothing like seeing books whizzing between shelves as if they were birds, or candy that caused one to breathe fire. This magic was as if they were just breathing air. And Simon was beginning to love magic.

*

"SLYTHERIN!" The Sorting Hat calls. Simon watches as Marcus Grimm strides to the long table of green and silver. Agatha was right about thinking of the houses as teams. Although the Sorting Hat was the unbiased judge, Simon felt as if they were being drafted onto football teams. Everybody was chattering excitedly and seemed excited to be assigned a house. Simon just felt kinda sick and lost.

Penelope had, like she predicted, gotten into Gryffindor. Simon thought after hearing the Sorting Hat's song she'd definitely be a Ravenclaw -- the wit and wisdom and all that -- but she seems right at home among the table of red and gold. It looks fun. Simon hopes he gets to be with her. He'd hate to lose one of the two friends he's just made.

The line shuffles forwards. Simon mumbles an apology to the first-year behind him who pays him no mind. If he twists his head over his shoulder he can make out Agatha towards the end of the line. 

"Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch." Professor Posibelf -- vice headmistress - calls. All the excited cheering from Slytherin dies down as everybody leans forwards expectantly. Simon glances aside as two students whisper to each other:

_"That's him."_

_"Headmistress Natasha's son."_

Simon cranes his head to get a better look. Sure enough, it's the boy he saw only a day ago in Madam Malkin's shop. He looks good in the school robes. His skin is olive-tone, so the black doesn't wash him out, nor does the white of his pressed button-up. Basil looks the same as he had in the store only sans the smirk. His face is wiped clean of any expression as he approaches the Sorting Hat. It only hovers for a second over his head, not even touching his hair before bellowing:

"RAVENCLAW!" There's cheering from the Ravenclaw table and polite clapping. They've been the most subdued out of the four houses when it came to their new members. They were excited, of course, but the real reactions were when the student sat down. The Ravenclaws would huddle in, scooting closer to the first years with hands outstretched and smiles welcoming. Simon wouldn't mind being with that lot either. 

Simon watches as Basil gets the same treatment only magnified. He assumes it's from the fame and glory of being related to the prior Headmistress. Or it was because, even with his hair slicked back, he was attractive. It was a formula for instant popularity. Considering the amount of confidence he carries himself with Simon wouldn't be surprised if Basil easily became the most renowned student. Fine with him, the more others were in the spotlight the further away Simon would be from it. 

It isn't long before his own name is called. 

"Simon Snow!" He winces. Nobody's ever called him by his full name unless he was about to get an earful. Simon straightens his back, summons his courage, and approaches the stool. _At least it isn't a class presentation_ , he comforts himself with. 

A hush falls over the Great Hall as Simon takes a seat. He catches Penelope's eye over at the Gryffindor table. She gives him two thumbs up and a beaming smile. He exhales, comforted greatly. 

The Sorting Hat _hmm's_ quiet enough so only Simon hears it. He worries, for one terrible second, that this is all a fluke. That he doesn't belong. That there was some other Simon Snow who was supposed to receive a letter. That he --

"HUFFLEPUFF!" It yells, shattering Simon's ruminations. Professor Posibelf plucks the hat off his head and beams at him.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Simon." 

"Thanks," he says. He makes his way to the Hufflepuff table hoping his shaking isn't visible. He's swarmed with greetings as he's squeezed into the table. He doesn't recognize anybody from the train -- Niall and Agatha haven't been sorted yet, Dev is a Slytherin, and Penelope is a Gryffindor -- but he greets everyone as warmly as possible. 

Professor Posibelf continues to rattle off names left and right. By the time it's Agatha's turn the line has diminished to only a few people. (Niall was sorted into Slytherin). The students are getting restless for the ceremony to be over, and Simon can't blame them. He's been tiding himself over with thoughts of the promised magical feast; but now, as Agatha steps forwards, he pays close attention. _Please be Hufflepuff,_ he finds himself thinking.

"Agatha Wellbelove." 

She practically floats up the steps to the Sorting Hat. The warm candlelight does wonders for her. The reflection of the light off her hair makes her appear angelic. Everybody has their eyes glued to her as she sits down and folds her hands. Even her nails are flawless and well manicured. Simon feels his nails dig into his palms under the table.

"SLYTHERIN!" The Hat booms. Simon, among half the crowd, widens his eyes with surprise. Agatha shrugs to herself, smiles, and approaches the welcoming hisses and calls of the Slytherin table. He imagines Dev is well pleased.

Names that he doesn't remember are said and sorted. Simon goes back to his daydreams of floating pastries and glowing shepherd's pie. He only snaps back to reality when a smaller woman steps to the podium. She's got cropped blonde hair, glasses that sit at the edge of her nose, and the most comforting eyes Simon's ever seen. They're a pale blue, the kind you only see in fantasy novels, and he swears she looks directly at him. But it has to be his imagination, because he's very insignificant in this large group of extraordinary people. She clears her throat. The Great Hall falls silent. Simon doesn't think he could space out even if he wanted to.

"My name is Ebeneza Petty, and I'm Headmistress here at Hogwarts." There's a wave of applause to which Ebeneza smiles gratefully for. "For those of you returning, I'm very glad to see you all again. I expect you all to do your very best this year, as I know you do every year." There's some scattered giggling. "If you're new, allow me to formally welcome you to our beautiful school of magic. I hope each of you are able to find your homes here. Now, without further ado… Tuck in!" In the blink of an eye the golden platters are filled with every food imaginable. 

Simon hasn't seen this much food in his life. He's not even sure to begin, staring in awe. Can magic make food just appear? If so, he needed to learn that spell as soon as possible. The girl sitting next to Simon shoves her elbow into his side. It's an intentional shove, so he looks at her out of the corner of his eye. 

"What are you waiting for? Grab whatever you'd like." She winks, reaching past him to scoop a hearty bit of mashed potatoes onto her plate. 

"Er. Yeah." Simon flusters and follows her lead. She shoves a hefty spoonful into her mouth which makes Simon smile.

"'M Keris!" She says through a full mouth. 

"Simon." He piles food onto his plate, encouraged by Keris's enthusiam.

"Made any friends yet?"

"Agatha Wellbelove and Penelope Bunce." 

Keris nods. She's more in Simon's space than before but, surprisingly, he doesn't mind. It's comforting that he has at least one friend in his house. "Good. They're fit, huh?" Keris says it casually, as if she's his childhood friend and they gossip about girls all the time. 

"I guess. Agatha is really pretty."

Keris leans back to eye Agatha at the Slytherin table. She's shameless. Simon's cheeks burn on her behalf.

"Oh, yeah. Wouldn't be surprised if she were part veela. Looks like she's already got plenty of admirers." He glances over to her as nonchalant as he can. Keris is right. Everybody's surrounding Agatha the same way the Ravenclaws had swarmed Basilton. He doesn't know what Keris means by veela, but he imagines it's a high compliment. 

As people finish eating they dismiss themselves from the Great Hall. Upper-years clap Simon on the back as they leave, welcoming him and Keris yet again to Hufflepuff and Hogwarts. Keris shoves a biscuit into her mouth as Penelope squeezes herself next to Simon.

"Are you allowed to sit here?" Penelope shrugs and sticks her hand out to Keris. Keris shakes it, doing her best not to spray crumbs across the table. Simon feels relaxed with Penny by his side again. She looks so at home, as if she's always been at Hogwarts. Simon's jealous at how calm and carefree she is. 

Penny shoves Simon's napkin into his hands with a sniffle. "Isn't it just gorgeous here? Did you notice the ceiling? It's enchanted. Marvelous." He looks up. Sure enough, past the floating candle pieces, the roof mirrors the sky. There's no light pollution out here, so as the sun sets the stars burn brightly. The clouds drift by lazily on the ceiling. Simon feels like he's in a Michelangelo painting. 

"Let's see your room!" Penny says, popping up to her feet. Keris throws her napkin onto her now empty plate. Simon watches as both disappear into the air with a _pop._

"I don't think Gryffindors can be in the _Hufflepuff's_ dorm." Keris says.

"Pish. I'm hardly a threat." Penelope expectantly looks at Simon. Realizing both girls are waiting, he clamours to his feet.

Mostly everybody has filed out of the Great Hall. A prefect tells Keris and Simon the Hufflepuff common room's secret, and the three are off.

"Aren't you as excited as a pixie? Classes start Monday… Potions and Transfiguration… Astronomy and Magical History. Defence Against the Dark Arts." Penelope sighs dreamily. Simon hides his hands inside his robes and shrugs. Keris snorts.

"Defence is taught by Professor Fiona. You can't say you're looking forward to that are you? House leader or not, she's scary." Simon looks at a particularly interesting painting and almost misses the staircase.

"Please, as if it'll be hard." 

"We don't even need a Defence class if you ask me. Not like we have to worry about You-Know-Who." 

Penny seems almost offended. "Of _course_ we need a Dark Arts class! Regardless of what they say about You-Know-Who, the Dark Arts are still a very real problem! Vampires, curses, dementors, werewolves…"

"Vampires and werewolves exist?" Simon asks.

Keris gives Simon a weird look.

"Normal family," Penelope interjects, "Yes. 

"Wicked." 

Simon isn't much for talking, so he's happy enough walking behind the two girls with wild hair, letting them lead through the twisting corridors and seemingly endless stairs. They descend further into the school, and for a second Simon panics as the temperature dips when they head down a tight stairwell. Is the bloody common room in a _dungeon?_ Is that ethical? One time they had to evacuate Simon's primary school because of black mold. He can't imagine what lives inside of a dungeon. Magical black mold? Is there such a thing? He heard at the dining table that Hufflepuffs liked the whole gardening schtick, but he hadn't imagined that the fun gardening classes were actually Studies of Fungi and Venomous, Murdering Plants. He wonders if _Little Shop of Horrors_ was based in reality after all.

But when they stop at a bunch of barrels off to the side of a sign labeled 'Kitchen', Simon settles down. "Not a dungeon?" 

Keris taps on the barrels as instructed by their prefect and grins. "No. Be grateful you're not a Slytherin, 'cause they sure like it dank and musty." 

Simon can't imagine Agatha feeling at home in a _dungeon._ He bites down the urge to ask Penelope if Keris is joking, and instead follows the girls into the Hufflepuff common room.

*

Simon has never felt at home before. Even living at Privet Drive, he was only a visitor. The Snows hadn't wanted another kid: there was no bedroom specially prepared for him, no notches on the door monitoring his height, no family photo with him included. He was an orphan, and although his relatives tried to give him a semblance of a home, he never felt as if he belonged. How could he? He never grew up with parents, he didn't have a hometown, he didn't even know his own birthday. 

For the first time in his life, he could forget about all of these things. Now, he had his own bed, a place to call home. Simon has his own _house_ \-- he's on a team where people actually want him. (Simon quite likes the houses despite all of Penny's groveling). He's got friends and a cozy living environment, he takes interesting classes, and… He has a home. 

Simon Snow has a home. It hits him sometimes when he's passing between classes, and it takes all his strength not to get drunk off of giddiness on the spot. He has a place he belongs; the library listening to Penelope complain about one of her roommates. He has a home; Keris minging about Professor Fiona in the common room. He has friends; Agatha helping him with Potions on their spare time. People care about him; Professor Minotaur being incredibly patient when Simon Transfigures his desk instead of the teacup on it. It makes his head spin. He still doesn't understand it. Simon doesn't know how to deal with people liking and wanting him around. 

It's almost refreshing when somebody treats him the way he's used to. That is to say: poorly.

Professor Fiona is the hardest teacher to please. Simon is in a shared Defence class with the Ravenclaws who, to add salt to the wounds, have more wits in their fingertips than Simon's got in his whole body. As if his elocution wasn't already laughable, Simon's self-preservation is abysmal. Throw him in a bar fight and with a good swing or two he'd be fine, but put him up against whatever the fuck exists in magicland? Yeah. Recipe for disaster. And Fiona knows this. Why she consistently uses him for demonstrations is beyond him, but he's sick of being on the receiving end of schoolyard hexes and jinxes. 

Keris, with her wand tucked behind her ear, helps Simon to his feet with a knowing smile. Her Knockback Jinx has quite a bite to it. Simon would know, considering how many times he's been on the receiving end of it. "Maybe you should spend less time studying Potions with Agatha and more time asking for help with this class." 

She's right, he knows that, but the thought of asking for help with stupid spells and even stupider essays was degrading. She exhales loudly at the face he makes, plucking her wand out of her hair as Simon rolls his sleeves up. She allows him a moment to breathe his frustration away and regain control of himself, which he takes gratefully. 

Penny told him his magic is very emotional based. "Your magic already reacts for you subconsciously," she once said, "now, you've got to learn how to use it consciously." 

Whatever that had meant. Keris had said Penny was being too nice and that he had 'bollocks control' of his magic. He was still having a hard time believing everything was real, let alone the fact he can make red sparks appear out of nothingness. 

He turns to Keris and is about to suggest they try again when he almost bumps into Professor Fiona. Her smile reminds him of a shark. She is a shark with dark hair and blonde streaks in platform shoes, and Simon has never been more intimidated. 

"Noticed you haven't been improving, kid." 

Simon feels his ears turn red. "Er… No. I'm not sure what's wrong, Professor." He throws a helpless look at Keris. She shrugs, unable to do anything except watch. 

Fiona snaps her hand at another student. Simon stares at the floor as if it'll save him from the waterfall of humiliation. 

"Snow, I'm officially splitting you and your girl toy up. This is your new partner for the rest of the year, got it?"

"Really, Fiona?" 

Simon looks up. Basilton is being pushed at him, Keris standing off to the side mildly offended. 

"Hey, kid. Don't backtalk me. Just 'cause you're a big ole' smartass and you're my favorite nephew doesn't mean you can disrespect me." She flicks Basil's forehead. He doesn't react to her. Instead, he takes one look at Simon and looks back at her with raised eyebrows. As if to say _'How could you?'._ Simon's grip tightens on his wand. If it weren't for the fact that it's a magical item he probably would've been concerned with breaking it. 

Basilton sighs, turns to Simon like this is the most painful thing in the world, and takes out his wand. "So, Snow. Show me what you can do."

If Keris's Knockbacks had some bite, then Baz's felt as if Simon was hit by a truck. Baz's magic was powerful, and there was such an overwhelming amount of it. It had left Simon feeling distinctly singed. Penny laughs at his complaining.

"That's what you'd expect of a Grimm-Pitch. Hilarious that Professor Pitch is making you play nice with Baz." 

"That's not his actual name. He doesn't deserve a nickname. Call him Basilton. Hearing you say _Baz_ puts a bad taste in my mouth." Simon slumps in his seat. He winces as part of his back catches against the chair, rubbing the spot where a bruise (Keris? Baz?) is quickly forming from the latest Defence lessons. 

Penelope rolls her eyes and jams her glasses up her nose. "Dramatic. Baz is an alright guy. See him skulking about sometimes here." She gestures to the library. "Nice to have some company so late at night."

Simon points his wand at the wad of parchment between him and Penelope. It shakily raises into the air. "That's suspicious. He's suspicious, don't you think?" 

"The only suspicious thing here is _you."_ Penelope snatches the ball out of the air. "You're getting so worked up over a minor inconvenience. Get ahold of yourself, Simon!" 

Over the few months of residing at Hogwarts, Simon has learned that Penny is right almost 100% of the time. Only _almost_ 100% because one time she had said the giant squid in the lake hibernates during the winter. Which, after Simon chucked leftovers into the lake from the Great Hall, was proven wrong when tendrils dragged the scraps underwater. Instead of admitting defeat, Penny had immediately been concerned with the squid's diet. Because, surely, roast beef and corned hash wasn't part of a balanced meal. Simon dismissed her concerns by reminding her about the trash that must float into the lake and subsequently get eaten. 

Regardless, it doesn't stop him from being bitter. She's right; Baz is probably a normal bloke attending school -- aside from how pompous and pretentious he is. Sure, it isn't his fault that being his mother's son makes his reputation precedes him, but Simon wishes he wouldn't be such a git about it. 

He hates to admit it, but… Simon _has_ gotten better in Defence Against the Dark Arts thanks to Baz's begrudging assistance. They've been partnered up repeatedly due to Fiona's influence. In the beginning, Simon minded it: he had sworn Baz was purposefully making his jinxes painful and annoying, that he was tormenting Simon for fun. 

But he had snapped at Baz and, with an angry swipe of his wand, not only deflected Baz's spell but disarmed him.

"Sod off." Simon had snarled in response to his taunts. Baz had rolled his eyes.

"You're acting like a child. Are you sure you're supposed to be at Hogwarts?"

"Shut up, Baz." 

"You've done nothing but prove me correct, Snow. Give me reason to." Baz drew his wand and pointed it. He cast, but when the magic flew out of his wand Simon flicked his wand harshly, and the Knockback deflected into the desks pushed up against the wall. They shuddered against the spell. Baz was disarmed, suddenly -- wand hovering out of reach. Simon pointed his wand at Baz. He hadn't _said_ anything, but he could feel the spell coiling out through his wand. Baz had the common sense to dodge out of the way of the blast, luckily. 

Simon expected growling and grit teeth. That was all he and Baz had been doing. Kicking the shit out of each other, hissing, and curling lips. But when Baz looked at him? He had _smiled._ It was the nicest thing Simon's ever seen on his face. 

"Good." Basil had said. Unsure what to do, Simon handed Baz back his wand. It was the first time Baz treated Simon like an equal. And, for whatever reason, he found that way more gratifying than acknowledgement from Professor Fiona.

He'd rather take a swim with the giant squid than admit Baz was the reason he's surviving Defense. What Penny didn't know wouldn't hurt her. And _Keris_ wouldn't rat him out: he's pretty much her only friend. 

So, Simon neglects to mention that his enemy is sort of his tutor. He chooses to keep the memory of Baz's grin locked up, stored with all the other things Simon doesn't think about. He's got an entire section dedicated to the Grimm-Pitches and it only seems to get larger and more confusing with every conversation involving Fiona or Baz. 

Penny closes her book. Simon looks up at her as she slides her bitten fingers through a knot in her hair. "When the school year is over… You'll be going back to live with those Normals, right?" 

Simon shrugs.

"But," She wrinkles her nose, thinking carefully about her next words. "Surely there's somewhere else you can go? No offence, Simon, but it's… Well… Merlin, you're being neglected." 

Neglected? Simon mouths the word back, surprised by her statement. He never said much about his family -- or the lack thereof. He wasn't ashamed of being an orphan persay, but the Snow's had felt so far away and irrelevant during his year at Hogwarts. He was able to pretend that he was raised in the wizarding world like everybody else. Here he was well-fed, allowed freedom, and saw magic everywhere. Where Privet Drive was cold, lifeless, and bland, the wizarding world was anything but. It was easy to forget about his reality here. He didn't want to think about how he'd be going cold turkey on all things magical in a few days time. 

"I'm not neglected." 

"Simon, they didn't send you anything for Christmas! No messages, gifts… You should have seen yourself the first month. Pale and wordless -- you were a shell of yourself." 

"They don't have money to throw around. Especially nothing for the kid they didn't want, Penny." 

Penny and him stare at each other for a long moment. She purses her lips and scrunches her face as if she's bitten into a particularly sour lemon. Penelope likes to deal with facts and truth, even when they’re ugly and painful. 

Fact: Simon is an orphan who has never felt loved for. Hogwarts is more of a home than his real one ever was.

Also fact: Penelope lives with a large family and charming parents. She has never felt alone or unloved. She is incapable of fully realising Simon’s pain, because she has nothing to compare it to. 

Another fact: She may not be able to understand, but she can still support him and love him. And she does.

“I wish you could come to my house instead.” Penny says, quietly.

Simon almost finds himself saying _me too._ Instead, he cleans up her books and leaflets of loose papers, because at least he doesn’t have to think about that.

They leave the library together but walk to their respective common rooms alone.

*

As their first year at Hogwarts comes to an end, Simon realises he’s never been happier. He’s got actual friends now, his teachers aren’t so bad, and most of all: the gaping hole of loneliness fixed in his heart has been shrinking. Day by day, when he returns to his friends after class, he breathes easier. He feels like he belongs. Even though he’ll be going back to the Snows for the summer, he knows that Hogwarts is now his home. 

On the train ride back, he’s quiet. Penny is chatting fervently at Agatha, clearly nervous about their departure as well. Agatha doesn’t seem too bothered, but she has a nice family to go home to. 

He tries not to dwell on goodbyes, which is made easier when Penny just walks away with a wave, but it still hurts. Agatha smiles at him and gives him a hug. 

“See you in September.”

While the students around him scatter and run towards their parents, Simon stands still. In the distance, he can see Penny being hugged by a woman, surrounded by a whole gaggle of people. They all look excited to see her. 

He closes his eyes and wishes he was back at Hogwarts. He’ll miss it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> official chapter 1!! this is posted relatively quickly only because it's been done for quite awhile. as of right this second chapter 2 is halfway done. the next update will not be so fast. also if you're wondering why, if this is the equivalent of book 1/sorcerer's stone then why hasn't anything happened, it's because of the fact that the plot points are severely different here than the canonical hp series. (ex: humdrum doesn't 'die' like voldemort. he was severely injured but lived). minor things will happen here and there, but things will kick off later on. think of it as a slow burn. and yes you will get the mushy uwu soft romance shit too but that's not the primary focus of the story

**Author's Note:**

> hi! thanks for reading! this is a bit lengthy of a note because i've got a lot to say, so heads up!  
> this fic and au is co-created by myself and eva! (chapter-61 on tumblr). this au/fic is as much mine as it is hers. she's also a co-writer, so some of what you read will have also be written by her!  
> i told myself after i finished 'with love, simon' i probably wouldn't write anything major for a good, long while. and then... well... i decided that writing a hp/co au that'll end up over 50k words seemed like a swell idea. as of now, the story is planned to have 8 chapters, a prologue, and an epilogue. each chapter, excluding the pro/epilogue is to be thought of as a sort of "mini-book", and it will be one chapter is one year. for example, chapter 1 = year 1. these chapters, since they are a bit lengthier and will only continue to grow in length, can take much longer to write so we're shooting for every two weeks/twice a month for updates? we'll see i guess.  
> 


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